Chapter Twenty-Seven
Miah stepped out the front door. The afternoon was unusually warm for the season, the mercury hovering just above fifty. He took a seat on the porch swing and twisted the cap off his beer. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d done this—sat down with a drink and nothing else to do for a little while but think.
And more than that, he couldn’t remember the last time he’d sat down to think about good things. Scary, monumental things, but positive ones, all the same.
He had a big decision to make. It couldn’t be rushed, though it demanded action. Demanded serious, soul-searching thought.
Then again, Miah suspected he already knew what needed to be done.
He gave a whistle and King came trotting around from the back of the house. “C’mere, girl.” She sat at his feet, alert and eager as ever for her next assignment. “That’ll do. Just after some company.”
Miah’s bottle was halfway empty when a vehicle came around the corner, and he watched it until it turned into the lot, the dipping sun revealing its color—BCSD beige. His heart rose, settling high to leave him at once nervous and eager. He waited, and watched Nicki step out.
She was dressed in her uniform and he said a little prayer, hoping she wasn’t here on business. He hadn’t had more than a handful of moments alone with her since September, and so much had happened. They’d hit pause on their romance in the fallout of Dooley’s arrest and through the chaos and stress that swallowed Miah whole in the run up to the trial. She’d been to the ranch any number of times, though—Matty had started his riding lessons with Raf, and she’d come by to drop him off and to check in with Miah and his mom. But there was always so much happening, always some stranger or other buzzing around to do with the case, and soon enough, to do with the oil situation.
She waved when she spotted him and walked up the lawn. He waved back and did a decent job keeping his eyes off her hips.
She smiled as she mounted the porch steps. King met her, rewarded with an ear-scratching. “You free?” Nicki asked Miah.
“I am. You here as a deputy or a friend?”
She smirked. “Is that all we are?”
He lifted his bottle. “Mostly wondering if you wanted a drink.”
“Ah. I’m off, but no, thanks. I have to get Matty home.”
“Of course. I forgot he was with us this afternoon.”
“I wouldn’t say no to us splitting a bottle of champagne sometime soon, though. I think we’ve earned a toast.” The trial had only just begun, but Miah had enough answers to breathe again.
He smiled. “You’re on.”
She took a seat on the swing beside him, angling her knees so she could face him. “How you doing?”
He nodded and smiled weakly, considering the question. “I’m . . . I’m good. I’m also really goddamn lost.”
“Lost? About the case?” She knew he was finally beginning to feel settled on that front. “Oh—or do you mean what to do about the oil?”
“Oil.”
“Gut reactions?”
He frowned, squinting off at the sinking sun. “Gut reaction, we’re getting into the crude business.”
She looked surprised, brows rising. “Yeah?”
“Our choices as I see them are to sell the land to some developer, develop the oil side ourselves, or do nothing. The latter’s untenable—I won’t run the ranch the way we have been, the last few years, not if there’s another option. If these droughts are the new normal, not just bad luck . . . we need the money.”
“You’d keep ranching, though? Not just switch to oil?”
He nodded. “I mean, I guess that’s option four—switch to oil, exclusively. But I can’t imagine not ranching. I also can’t imagine sitting around on my ass someplace else, living off the sale to some development outfit. I’d go crazy. Mom would, too. Taking it on, it’d be huge, no denying it. And it’d cut into the grazeable land, of course. But on the plus side, it’d create a lot of new jobs. Maybe even as many as the casino could, and skilled ones—not just the service gigs the Eclipse was promising.”
“That’s probably dead in the water now, huh?”
He nodded. “I imagine so. The referendum was a con job. They could hold another one, but if they did . . . I’d come forward, tell people, ‘Fuck the casino.’ It’s the reason I lost my dad, and Alex. And it would’ve done nothing to preserve what Fortuity’s about.”
She wore a funny little smile. “And what’s Fortuity about?”
“Families,” he said. “Hardworking people—when there’s jobs to go around, that is. Simple living, beautiful landscape . . . if the badlands are your thing.”
“They have a certain rugged appeal.”
Enough to keep you here? He held his tongue. “Whatever the case, I hope people would vote against the Eclipse, if it comes to a second referendum. It’s been cursed from the start. Corruption on top of corruption. What this town needs is good jobs and real money. A second chance.”
“Sure.”
“You know, my family built the railroad that runs through this town. The trains quit stopping here when the gold mining dried up, but maybe my mom and I could be the reason the depot reopens in time.”
She smiled. “That’s a very nice thought. And there’s certainly money in oil . . . What’s the name of that family from Dallas? The Churches could be the new iteration.”
“I dunno about that. But yeah, that’s where my gut’s at. Get some experts in, see where the oil’s richest. Develop a certain acreage, keep on ranching the rest.”
“And get filthy rich.”
Miah shrugged, troubled by the idea. “Get secure, that’s all. Invest in the community. My dad, he was always so proud of the jobs we created, here. ‘Hard work for fair pay,’ he said. With all the money the oil could bring, we could do so much more. Not handouts, but something. Infrastructure, local businesses. Maybe even a school. Fortuity hasn’t had its own school in decades.”
Nicki’s smile was wide as the sky growing dark before them, making her cheeks round. “You’re some kind of amazing, you know that?”
He blushed, as uncomfortable as he was flattered by her praise. “No, not really. Just a man with simple tastes who wants to see this place thrive. Understand, my family’s been here for generations. We’re some of the reason Fortuity was settled, and part of the reason it didn’t blow away completely when the mines closed. Roots count for a lot with me. I know this town has its problems, but it’s . . . it’s in me. It is me, in a very real way.”
“Sure.”
“I can’t imagine myself anyplace else. I wouldn’t want to. And it’s not fear talking—it’s pride.”
She reached out and squeezed his forearm.
Miah looked down at his bottle. “Anyhow, that’s what my gut’s saying. I need to sit down with my mom and see where hers is at, but that’s what I’d like.”
“Sounds noble. Noble and lucrative. And it doesn’t sound like you’re lost at all, in fact.”
“No, maybe not. It’s just such a big change, I can’t quite wrap my head around it.” He looked up, catching her eye. “What about you? I know you got yourself in deep at the Sheriff’s Department.”
“Troublemaker of the Year.”
“You gonna move on, you think?” His guts twisted up tight. They’d been dodging this subject for months now, it felt. He’d been so torn up throughout the pre-trial drama, he’d not dared to ponder the idea of her leaving. It would’ve ripped him apart.
She pursed her lips, holding something in. Miah’s heart sank, officially.
“Sorry to hear that,” he said softly.
Nicki laughed. “I didn’t say anything.”
“Your face said it for you. You guys moving back to Chicago?”
“No.”
“Someplace else?”
She shook her head. “Nope.”
Miah started, so much so that the swing gave a little shimmy. “No?”
“No. Believe it or not, everything that went down . . . I may be in it deep with the top brass, but I have to say, my colleagues have never been warmer. Or the citizenry, for that matter.”
“Really?”
“Really. You people sure like a maverick, don’t you?”
He laughed. “We like few things more. What about Matty?”
“He wants to stay. He’s earned himself some major cred, being the son of a noted loose cannon, I’m proud to report.”
“Yeah?”
“Yup. I told him, if you want to go back, we can, after the school year wraps. He told me no, he doesn’t want that. For the summer, maybe, but he wants to stay here. He wants to keep riding, you see.”
Miah felt his smile grow about a mile wide, hearing that. “No shit?”
“None whatsoever. Also . . . well, I think there may be a girl in the picture.”
“Ah . . . Man, they start young, these days.”
“No kidding. But I doubt he’s even held her hand, so I’m playing it cool for the time being. Anyhow, he’s in. And my mom thinks it’s good for him. I mean, Fortuity may be boring—”
“‘Scuse me? Where have you been the past year?”
“But at least there aren’t any gangs to worry about,” she finished.
“True.”
“So, yeah. We’re here for the long haul. Or at least the foreseeable haul.”
He narrowed his eyes at her. “This begs a very serious question.”
“Which is?”
“You and me.” He’d been aching for her since they’d cooled things off. The break had been necessary, his life all but unmanageable since September, but his feelings had never cooled. Not for a second.
She smiled, looking devious. “Come out and say it, Church.”
“Can’t yet. I need somebody’s blessing, first.”
“My underage son?” she asked, a laugh coloring the words.
“The very one.”
“How very traditional of you . . . but fine. He’ll say yes, I’m sure. He thinks you’re the coolest. Or whatever the kids are saying these days.”
“I could ask him now.”
She glanced to the stables in the distance. “I suppose you could.”
“If that’s not too eager.”
She smiled again. “I don’t mind a man seeming eager where wooing me is concerned.”
“Well, all right, then. You go in and find my mom—she has something for you.”
“What?”
“A present. What, I’m not sure. But something to say thanks for your part in us getting justice. And for everything since the fire. She’ll probably cry, just so you’re warned.”
“I’m sure I’ll return the favor.”
“She’s either in the kitchen or the office.”
Nicki’s voice grew shy. “Good luck with Matty, I guess.”
“Thanks. Let’s see if I need it.”
“If he says no, I guess we’re doomed to sneak around in secret for the rest of our lives.”
“A chance I’m willing to take.”
He was about to steal a kiss, but she beat him to it—a quick peck on the cheek. He glowed all over. To think she was staying, that this could be something real . . . He all but ran to the stables, King on his heels.
Matty was out in the yard with Raf, going over one of the stock horses with a curry comb—Miah’s horse, in fact.
“Hey, guys,” he called, and both of them turned, as well as the horse.
Raf nodded. “Hey, boss.”
“Hi, Mr. Church.”
“Taking good care of Blondie, I trust?”
Matty made a face, looking the animal over—tawny with a dark mane and tail. “Looks like a brunet to me. Plus isn’t this a dude horse?”
Miah laughed. “I take it you’ve never seen The Good, the Bad and the Ugly.”
“Are those movies?”
Miah rolled his eyes. “Man, do you need some serious cultural schooling.”
“Sorry.”
“It’s fine, I’m just messing with you. Blondie is the guy Clint Eastwood plays in that movie is all. Maybe I’ll subject you to it some day when your mom’s sick with the flu or something.”
“Cool.”
Very cool, Miah thought. With he and Nicki all but official, he could admit to himself he wanted more of this bond he felt forming between him and Matty. He turned to Raf. “Can I borrow this know-nothing a minute?”
“Sure. We’re just about done anyhow.”
“Great. Thanks for supervising.”
“My pleasure.” Raf shot Matty a conspiring look. “Gimme a few more months and he’ll be rodeo ready.”
Miah laughed. “His mom’ll love that.”
Raf went back to work on Blondie and Miah beckoned Matty to follow him off to the side. He sat on a bale of hay and Matty did the same. King had followed, settling at Matty’s feet.
“I’m not in trouble, am I?” the kid asked.
“You tell me,” Miah said, smirking.
“I don’t know why I would be.”
“Well, you’re not. I actually need a word with you, man to man.”
That had Matty sitting up straighter, his expression businesslike. “Okay.”
Miah cleared his throat. “How would you feel if I asked your mom out? Like, on a date, I mean.”
A pause, as surprise or confusion bloomed all across Matty’s face. “Oh. Um, no offense, but you’re, like, way too old for her.”
Miah scoffed. “We’re the same age. Or close to it.”
Matty’s brow bunched. “Aren’t you, like, fifty?”
Miah couldn’t help but laugh. “I’m thirty-five. How rough do I look, exactly?”
“You got gray hair.”
“Not that much. Jeez, you really don’t make it easy for a guy, do you?”
The kid shrugged, then leaned down to pet the dog.
“So, what d’you think? Okay if I take your mom out to dinner sometime?”
“I guess that’s cool. Don’t get your hopes up, though.”
“No?”
“My mom’s, like, really pretty. You’re nice and the ranch is cool and everything, but you’re not in her league.”
Miah snorted. “Break it to me gently, kid . . . Well, I guess I’ll just have to ask her and find out. Thanks very much for your vote of confidence.”
Matty looked solemn for a moment, then said, “I hope she says yes. I’ll put in a good word for you.”
He held in a laugh, touched by that. “I’d appreciate it.”
“Do you want some advice?”
Miah nodded. “Definitely.”
“Take a shower. And change your clothes.”
“Will do. And I could say the same to you, by the way.”
“Should I go help Raf finish, or . . . ?”
“Nah, your mom’s here. We can go find her together.”
They started walking and Matty cast Miah a sidelong glance. “You’re not gonna ask her out right in front of me, right?”
“Ah, no. I’ll bide my time.”
“Yeah, you should. And shower, like I said. And maybe get her some flowers. She likes roses. Unless you don’t want to come on too strong . . . Maybe just shower, and try to play it cool.”
Miah smiled, gaze on the house. “I’ll give it some thought. I’d hate to blow my chance.”
“No kidding.”
They reached the porch and Miah led Matty inside. “You thirsty?”
“Yeah. Really thirsty.”
Miah pointed into the empty kitchen. “Help yourself to whatever you want from the fridge. I’ll find your mom.”
She was in the office with his mother. He knocked on the doorframe then stepped inside. As predicted, his mom’s cheeks were damp, but she was smiling. Nicki wiped at her own eyes, waving when Miah appeared.
“Hope I’m not interrupting.”
“Just a load of blubbering,” his mom said, voice a sticky mess.
“Check this out,” Nicki said, turning to the desk to lift something—a wool blanket, gray patterned with bright blues and reds and oranges.
“Nice. You must’ve done good if my mom’s been buying Pendleton.”
“I love it. It’ll go perfect with our throw pillows.”
Miah’s mom cleared her throat, seeming to collect herself. “Well, I’ve got a call I need to get organized for . . .”
“Sure,” Miah said, stepping toward the hall.
“Thank you again,” Nicki said, picking up the blanket.
“And you. I’ll never find enough chances to tell you that.”
Nicki’s lips went all quivery and she didn’t reply except to smile and raise her hand, then she followed Miah out. He closed the office door behind them.
They made their way slowly toward the den. “Matty’s in the kitchen.”
“You have your little man-talk?” she asked.
“We did. I have his blessing, though I’ve been ordered to bathe and possibly source some flowers before I make my move.”
“I raised that boy right.”
“I was also advised not the get my hopes up, because I’m apparently super old and not good-looking enough for you.”
She snorted. “Well, in light of all that, I may need to reconsider.”
“I’ll take it like a man, I promise.”
“Do you think your mom really had a call?” she asked.
“Unclear. But I’m sure she thinks that the more time we get alone, the less time she’ll have to wait before I announce we’re engaged and expecting triplets.”
“Hoomph.” Nicki grimaced and held the blanket out before her like a lumpy pregnant belly. “Let’s go on a few dates before I decide if I’m feeling that limber.”
They dawdled in the den. “You really have to get home, huh?” he asked.
She nodded. “He’s got homework, the dog needs walking, and I’m on dinner duty—my mom joined a sewing circle.”
“Oh, good for her.”
Nicki laughed, nodding. “Sounds like something from another era, but I’m glad she’s making friends.”
“One more step toward making this place a real home, I hope.”
“I hope so, too.”
“I, um . . . I’ll be finding some roses, soon as I can,” Miah said. “Possibly from the Sinclair station, but only out of desperation.”
“Get me a slushy while you’re there.”
He laughed. “Will do. Maybe I’ll bring it by your place some evening when you’re off . . . ?”
“I’m done at five tomorrow and the day after.”
“Tomorrow, then. Seeing as how you like me eager.”
“Very much. Give me ’til five thirty, though—I’d prefer to get asked out by a future oil baron not still dressed in beige polyester.”
“As you wish.” He tucked his hands in his pockets. They could kiss, so easily . . . but no. He wanted to wait, now, until their first official date. “Well, Deputy, I’ll look forward to it.”
“Me too, Mr. Church. See you tomorrow night.”
“You will. Five thirty sharp.”
She smirked and traced the brim of his hat with her thumb and forefinger. “Don’t forget that bath.”
He laughed, let her have the last word. He watched her go, feeling light as air to think the next time they kissed, she’d be his girl. For real.